March 9
by prosemeds
Summary: "They say where you invest your love, you invest your life. For seven years, I'm immeasurably grateful you've spent it on me. I'm grateful you held onto me, hopeful for us when I often couldn't be. Fighting for us when I didn't know how, loving me before I knew I could love you back. You've given me all of you, and I will strive to do the same for the rest of my life. Always."
Ep Insert for 8x14. Personally don't think we needed anything extensive like this in the episode, but it's a nice set of "what if" scenes integrating some Beckett into the ep. Short little something for Castle fanfic Monday.

* * *

Even now, the idea of being away from Castle unravels her strength.

It's not always obvious outwardly because Kate Beckett knows the brave face well, proficient in sealing it over her skin when it matters. When it's needed.

But in moments of weakness – and there are _moments_ of weakness – when the tremble in her lip mirrors the shudder of her breath, her hollow eyes fill with the worst of the worst case scenarios. And so, the mask falls off. It shatters.

 _I would die if I lost you._

She can't imagine that ever ringing false.

Sucking in a breath, her back straightens against her seat to refocus back into this damn meeting. Coffee doesn't even help.

Needless to say, sleeping without him makes for restless nights in the time he's gone. Without his warmth blanketing her, silence to substitute the soundtrack of his snores against her head once he's surrendered to slumber, and how he cradles her in his embrace, she hates it. It's territory she hates to retread.

However, lack of rest isn't the full weight, isn't the full brunt of his absence. The aims of his venturing unnerves her most; her mind choking on the fact that he's hundreds of miles away, investigating old demons. Old demons that took him away for two months.

Hayley and Alexis are there. So he's not alone.

Of course, for her, it's not enough.

Even so, she has to deal, make it through these meetings without giving into distractions the deeper fears are so insistent to force-feed her. The job, the ruse, everything has her pushing Castle on the backburner of concerns.

Her heart knows better though, fighting for his place where he belongs.

"Captain Beckett?" Gates says, reeling her back into focus. "A word after, please?"

And shit, if that's not the hardest thing to hide from the world.

Once everyone shuffles out of the board room, Beckett rises from her chair, nearing her former captain with the same reverence as before. At the moment, she's uncertain if it's for respect or guilt.

"Yes sir?"

"Sit, sit," Gates says, shutting the door and taking a seat on the edge of the table as Beckett pulls back a chair. "Looks like you've lost some sleep."

"I've had worse, sir," she sighs, partially relieved to be seated again. Lifting her gaze, she meets the hard eyes opposite her. Studying, yet sympathetic.

"Yes, captain. I know."

"I-I hope it didn't give you the impression I wasn't completely here–"

"That's not why I asked for you. I'm fairly confident you can spit back everything I said, however, I do think I know you enough to bet that your silence is no indication of anything good."

"Just thinking, a lot on my mind," she dismisses, adding a smile, but it dies quickly in failure to convince herself.

"Is this about Mr. Castle?" Gates's arms fold, giving "the head tilt" pinnacle of all sympathetic gestures.

"He's on the list," she mutters through a grimace. "Among other things."

The deputy chief chuckles. "I'd imagine those other things don't really amount to this particular problem." Beckett offers a flicker in her eyes, parting her lips to speak, but she stops. "Mm. You two really surprised me. I've seen a lot of I do's, followed by a lot of I don'ts, but I find it more than disheartening to see this turn out for you two."

Beckett fights a smirk, still proud of this show they've created, despite how crazy it all is to portray. "Nothing's official, but we've been keeping our distance."

"You guys are...good. It's a solid, real solid partnership."

"Seven years of it on Wednesday," Beckett says in a drawl, the reality of the fact more tangible. "Seven years," she whispers to herself, eyes drifting to her wedding ring.

"I had the opportunity of seeing about, maybe half? Not the most conventional partnership, but definitely a successful one." Beckett returns her gaze; there's something there, hanging at the end. "Listen, I'm not one to pry. It's your marriage, your life. But as you said yourself, you and Mr. Castle have had seven years of partnership. It's not the time, but what you've done for each other, what you've done together, _that's_ a testament to your relationship."

"Are you...worried? About us?"

"I'm sure you both will find your way," Gates assures, "but as someone who's witnessed you two in action, I thought I'd be remiss in not reminding you how good you've got it with him, together." Standing, patting Beckett's shoulder and heading for the door. She halts, holding onto the knob when Beckett calls for her.

"That's it, chief? You didn't need anything else?"

"Tell me, Kate. When you moved up to captain – did you care any less about your people?"

Half a grin tugs up on her face. "More, sir. More."

Flashing a kind smirk in reply, Iron Gates struts out, leaving her replacement in somewhat better shape than she had arrived in.

* * *

Alexis knows how to wait.

Kind of.

She maintains her resolve on the other side of the closed doors, but that breaks once her dad's phone flashes an incoming call.

Wait. What?

"Hello?" she answers, slapping the cell onto her cheek.

" _Alexis_ –" Beckett breathes in reply. " _W-Where's your Dad_?"

"He's uh–" she stutters, eyeing the doors across the room. "He's meeting with someone right now. Did you need to talk to him?"

" _No, no, not really. Was just...checking in. To see how things were goin_ '."

"Oh, things are-uh–" She swallows, pacing the room, searching for the right word that won't alarm, won't stir. But her pause tips off Beckett faster than she can recover from it.

" _Is everything okay? What's happened?_ "

Panic, she's incited panic. "Nothing, nothing, I was surprised I guess." _Kill it. Work through and kill it_. "I just wasn't-expecting a call from you, Kate."

" _Oh_ ," she hears, silence trailing close behind. " _Listen, things are...complicated right now with me and your Dad_."

"That's a familiar phrase today," Alexis mumbles. "You don't owe me an explanation, for anything. Whatever it is, is between you and him."

" _I'm still here, you know that. I'm still_ –" There's a struggle to close the thought, so she fills it in.

"–No, yeah, I get it. I do. We're all fine though, I promise."

A sigh, she makes out a sigh over the speaker, some throat clearing. " _Just keep me updated_."

"Sure," she says, "but do you want to talk to Dad? Should I let him know you called?"

" _No it's alright, I need to go. Be safe. All of you. Okay_?"

"That's the plan," she answers with some strain. She lingers over the line without enough static to conceal her confession.

"I wish–" she starts again, shaking her head as the words slip out, cut up by the sharp exhale she takes. "I wish you were here."

Another sigh and she swears as they exchange goodbyes, " _Not as much as me, bud_ ," slips into her ear.

* * *

It's like drowning just under the surface. You're about to break out, finally breathe, but opportunity gets taken away in an undertow that threatens to swallow you whole.

That's what this mess has been.

And it seems like Castle can only be taken deeper by these demons.

So he sits, settling for silence as they wait to board their flight, drowning in the revelations. For the last hour he's resisted his phone, resisted that knee-jerk reaction to just call her, call Beckett and confess everything.

It's reminiscent of those years before, that sour ache of trying to keep her safe at the cost of her trust. Can he do that again?

After seven years, it's not a question that he loves her more now. It's Kate. It's his _wife_.

He has to tell her.

Digging into his pockets for his phone, notifications for a missed call and a voicemail light up the screen.

It's Beckett.

"Hey babe," the message starts. "It's twelve here already, and I just wanted to say happy anniversary. I'm sorry I can't be there. I wish I was. The whole day I've been–"

She stops, scoffing at herself. He can just imagine her lying in bed, hair spilled along the pillow with exhaustion sitting on her lids as she tries to stay up.

"It's funny. Looking back on your life, there are those moments you think of right away. Embedded in memory. Maybe they destroyed you, somewhere some part inside. Or, they doused you with hope, joy. Ecstasy. And you remember exactly how you felt because of how they struck. For me, when I look back on my life for those moments, it's you. Every time, it's you in my memory, so clearly. When I got shot and you held me there, crying and begging me to stay, how even then you managed to smile for me if only to keep me strong. Up to now I can hear the 'I love you' on your breath, how vivid it was."

The sniffle that scratches out of the speaker wears him down, everything in his chest waning to a single thread, tugging tightly as he listens to her detail all these moments together. He just wants to be home.

"They say where you invest your love, you invest your life. For seven years, I'm immeasurably grateful you've spent it on me. I'm grateful you held onto me, hopeful for us when I often couldn't be. Fighting for us when I didn't know how, loving me before I knew I could love you back. You've given me all of you, and I will strive to do the same for the rest of my life. Always."

The message ends with goodnight and I love you and twists his chest, desperate to hear her again, heightening his awareness of the minutes, seconds, the empty moments until he can come home to her.

Because he'll always come back home to her. No matter what.


End file.
